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Book., A iHir 



THE 



MAGPIE; 



OR. 



THE MAIB OF PALAIS EAF. 
a JWrto=trramattc Romance. 



IN THREE ACTS. 



PERFORMED AT 



THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LAM:. 



TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1815. 



LONDON : 

PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 

J815. 



7? : 






*,<% 



CHARACTERS 



Gervas, a respectable Farmer at 

Palaiseau Mr. Dowton 

Richard, his Son . . . Mr. Wallack 

Evrard, a Soldier, Father to 
Annette; his real name Gran- 
ville Mr. R.Philips 

Blaisot, Servant and Relation 

of Farmer Gervas . . Mr. Knight 

St. Clair, A Soldier, Comrade 

of Evrard Mr. Barnard 

The Bailli of Palaiseau . Mr. Munden 

Georget, Servant of the Bailli Mr. J. West 

Bertrand, the Jailor of the 

Town Mr. Penley 

Isaac, a travelling Jew . . Mr. Oxberry 

Gripeall, the Bailtis Clerk Mr. Maddocks 

A Magpie 

Gens d'Armes and Villagers 

Annette, Servant of the Farm Miss Kelly 
Dame Gervas, Wife of the 

Farmer Mrs. Sparks 



SCENE. — The Village of Palaiseau, 



THE MAGPIE, 

fyc. 3}'c. 



ACT I 



SCENE I. 

Represents a large court in the Farm of Palaiseau. 
At the left, the entry (or front door) of the 
house ; on the right, trees, with very thick 

foliage, particularly one, on a branch of which 
hangs a large basket-cage, with a Magpie in 
it. At the bottom of the stage, in front, a 
hedge ; in the centre of which is a rustic gate 

foi entrance; and, in the back-ground, a hill, 
and the country in perspective. 

Enter Blaisot. 

Mag. Blaisot! Blaisot! 

Blais. (in the house.) Coining, coming. (En- 
ters in a hurry, wiping Ids mouth.) One has ne- 
ver a moments time to Here I am ; what do 

you want? — Nobody here! (Sees Annette com- 
ing down the hill to the gate.) Ah ! there's Miss 



4 the magpie; or, the 

Enter Gervas, rolling a barrel. 
Gerv. Here ! Blaisot, my boy, lend a hand. 

Enter Blaisot, running in. 

Blais. That I will. 

Dame. What are you about, Mr. Gervas ? 

Gerv. That side — take care — now we have it: 
roll him up snug — that's it. There won't he too 
much, wife, never fear. Consider, all the village 
is coming, young and old, for our boy's arrival. 
No fete without wine — that's Farmer Gervas's 
maxim. 

JBlais. Yes — that's our maxim ; and the fid- 
dlers, you know, must whet their whistles — and 
we shall have such fun. 

Dame. Don't prate so ; but go and lay the 
table, as I told you. 

JBlais. I'm going. — (Goes to arrange the table, 
after carrying it in.) 

Gerv. Well, wife, is all ready? nothing for- 
got? 

Dame. " Nothing forgot," indeed ! — I like 
that. Things would go on prettily in the house, 
if I was not to look about me, and do every thing 
myself. 

Gerv. I know it, wife : for vigilance, activity, 
and cleverness, there's not such another within 
twenty miles round. 

Dame. I defy you to shew me a woman in the 
whole village of such patience and gentleness. — 
(Blaisot laughs) And what are yon doing, Mr. 
Drone? (Giving him a box on the ear.) You are 
to laugh, are you, instead of minding your busi- 
ness ? — a lazy knave! — and the table not halt" 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. O 

laid : every thing must be done by me ; I see, 
not a creature in the house to assist me. 

Blais. Lord ! Lord ! how can you say so ! I 
have not time to say my prayers, not one moment 
in twenty-four hours — and Miss Annette, she 
does nothing either perhaps — poor little soul ! 

Dame. Hold your tongue I say — she's not a 
bit better than you are. 

Gerv. Fie, fie, Dame — you don't do justice 
to that excellent girl — is she not always at her 
duty, and with mildness — 

Dame. I hate mildness — who cares for a girl 
that's always watching every look of yours, to 
do a thing before she's bid : I'd rather have that 
oaf, though he set's me mad twenty times a day 
with his stupidity — there's some use in a block- 
head of that kind — he puts me in a passion — I 
give him a box on the ear — it makes my blood 
circulate, and keeps me in health. 

Blais. Ecod, but I don't like to be your doc- 
tor after that there fashion. 

Dame. Yes, indeed ! Annette this, and Au- 
nette that, and so handsome forsooth ! and every 
body in love with her — and such sweet stuff — 
even that old fool the Baillie, Heaven forgive 
me, but I think he's in love with her too. 

Gerv. Do you know I have observed it, wife ; 
was there ever such a silly dotard ! 

Dame. And let me tell you, Mr. Gervas, all 
this nonsense spoils the girl — it is a good work- 
ing person I want, and not one of your handsome 
folks, for a servant. 

Gerv. Gently, gently wife ; recollect that An- 
nette is not in our house as a common servant -- 
you know she was rather committed to our pro- 
tection, by my sister at Paris— she is the daugh- 



G the magpie; OR, TH£ 

ter of as good a farmer as myself; and though 
poor Mr. Granville, her fath< r, lost all his pro- 
perty, ami was obliged to turn soldier at last, 
that isn't the fault ol the poor girl, who you must 
allow deserves every thing we can do for her. 

Dame. Mighty well — all that's true enough. 
but a young and handsome girl in a farm-house — 
I don't like such people about me — Mr. Gervas. 

Gerv. There's something in that to be sure — 
never mind wife — we can't all be handsome you 
know — let me see, (looking at his watch J half- 
past five : and Richard writes that we may ex- 
pect him at six. 

Dame. True; well then — I'll tell you what 
well do — I'll just go into the house, and give a 
look to see how things are going on, and we'll 
w r alk to the top of the hill to meet the dear boy. 

Gerv. Well said, Dame — how happy shall I 
be to embrace our son after such an absence — 
hearkee, Dame, we must think of getting him a 
wife. 

Dame. Aye, aye; we shall see in proper time. 

Gerv. I have something in my head. 

Dame. Tn your head indeed ! that's my affair, 
Richard's marriage is my business, Mr. Gervas, 
(calls Annette) — and he shall marry — 

Mag. Annette! Annette! 

Gerv. Dame — did you hear mag, there? that 
bird's a witch — He knew my thoughts. 

Dame. And let me tell you Mr. Gervas, it's not 
my thoughts, I assure you, and don't let me hear — 

Enter Annette. 

Ann. Did you call me, ma'am ? 

Dame. Yes, child; you must assist in laying 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 7 

the table, and getting things ready and nice — I 
shall go and prepare the linen and plate, but 
take care and don't let the same thing happen 
this time, that did a fortnight ago ; oh ! my hus- 
band's birth-day — I don't blame any body — 
another loss of that kind would be no joke to 
me — a silver fork's a silver fork. 

Ann. Oh ! ma'am, you may depend upon it — 
that unlucky fork has made me miserable ever 
sine*-. 

Gerv. Bah — and after all it's a mighty loss, 
indeed ! I tell you, wife, I'll hear no more about 
it — you dinn'd it into our ears for a week toge- 
ther ; and that's more than it was worth. 

Dame. Well, and do I say any more about it? 
I don't think of it for my part — come with me, 
Blaisot, I want you-; don't be impatient, my good 
man — I shall be with you in two minutes. 

(Exit ivith Blaisot.) 

Gerv. What's the matter, Annette? you look 
unhappy. 

Ann. Madame Gervas will still talk to me of 
that fork. 

Gerv. Poh ! don't mind — let her talk ; you 
know she loves it — but she means nothing. 

Ann. Oh! yes — she means, I know, that if I 
had been more attentive, the fork would not have 
been lost, and that makes me so unhappy. 

Gerv. What does it signify ; people can't an- 
swer for such accidents — let us talk of other 

say 



matt rs — here's Richard a coming — I dare 



» 



you're very sorry now, eh? 

Ann. Oh no, 1 am delighted — who could not 
be glad to see Richard — so good a son, so mild 
— so kind — why he's the very picture of you, Mr. 
Gervas. 



8 the magpie; or, thje 

Gerv. Indeed ! a little flatter'd or so — I see 
you like him, merely out of friendship for me, you 
little rogue ; suppose now I was to make you a 
present of this likeness of mine- 

Ann. To me, sir ! 

Gerv. Come, come, my dear child, Richard has 
no secret from me — you are a good girl — your 
education, your sentiments are such as I could 
wish — your father is a poor man — what then ? 
he is an honest one, that's enough for me — and 
his alliance would do honour to the best — I'll 
say no more. 

Ann. Good Heaven ! what have I heard ! can 
the poor Annette hope! but Dame Gervas — 
may perhaps — 

Gerv. We must let her scold a little to be sure 
—she'd fall sick if she could'nt scold ; but at 
bottom she's a good soul, believe me — therefore, 
hope the best, we'll manage matters. 

Ann. Oh ! sir, your goodness 

Enter Dame Gervas and Blaisot. 

Dame. Come, Mr. Gervas — I'm ready — (carry- 
ing a small basket of forks and spoons.) Here 
Annette — I need not tell you to take care of the 
plate. I should not use it, I assure you, if it 
was'nt for Richard's fete — have an eye to it 
child. 

Ann. Certainly ma'am. 

Gerv. Annette — we're going to meet Richard. 
Blais. To meet Richard ! ecod Til be first 
though. 

[Throwing down what he has in his hands* 
he scampers 1 1t rough the gate up the hill 
before them.] 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 9 

Gerv. Adieu, Annette, we shall return directly, 
remember what 1 told you ; and rely upon me. 

Dame Do have done with your compliments, 
and come along. 

[Exeunt Gervas and Dame.] 

Ann. (arranging the table and laying the knives 
and forks.) r \ he worthy Mr. Gervas ! he bids 
me hope, and shall I see my dear Richard once 
more ; every thing conspires to make me so 
happy ! and my dear father too, whom I shall 
soon embrace ! he writes me word that his regi- 
ment is coming to Paris, and that he will ask 
permission to come here, for a few days — I am 
so delighted i and he says he has received the 
little money I have been able to spare. 

(Isaac at a little distance behind the hedge.) 

Isa. Knives, scissars, lace, watches — any potty 
vants to py, &c. 

Ann. Ah ! here's the Jew that comes every 
year to our village — I've no money now, and I 
don't regret it ; how could it be so well dis- 
pos'd of as assisting a father in distress. 

Isa. (looking over the hedge.) Knives, scis- 
sars, &c. 

Ann. We want nothing now, good man, there's 
nobody at home. 

Isa. Look'ee here, matimoiselle, here's the 
fine tings all fresh from Paris — here's the timbles, 
the crosses, &c. 

Ann. I tell you we want nothing now. 

Isa. Don't be anger, matimoiselle — no fache 
— I'm lodg'd in te h* te horse in te village, two days, 
no more, if you wants any ting in my little vay. 

Ann. Very well — very well. 

Isa. Gentile Denoiselle, vary pretty knives, 
scissars, &c. (Exit Isaac. Music) 

c 



10 the magpie; or, the 

Enter Blaisot, (running down the hill.) 

JBlais. Here he is ! I saw him first. 

Ann, You saw him, Blaisot? 

Elais. To be sure I did. " Blaisot my boy," 
says he, " how is my dear Annette ? " She's 
dying to see you, says I — you're grown a very 
handsome fellow; and then, says he, catching 
hold of my hand, he gave it such a squeeze, that 
I can hardly open my fingers. 

Ann. Oh ! Richard, and is it true that we may 

once more 

[Music] 
What do I hear ? 

JBlais. Why the fiddles to be sure — arn't the 
whole village, in their best Sunday clothes, 
coming to Master Richard's fete — here they are, 
here they are. 

Ann. I can hardly breath with joy. 

Enter Richard, Gervas, Dame, and all 
the Villagers coining down the hill. — 
Richard, when he sees Annette, runs for- 
ward to embrace her. 

Mich. My belov'd Annette. 

Ann. Oh ! Mr. Richard. 

Gerv. Bravo 1 bravo ! — come my friends : make 
haste with the supper, Dame. 

Dame. Poor Richard must be so hungry after 
his long march. 

Rich. No, mother, I don't think of eating now. 

Dame. Come, Miss Annette, is there nothing 
to do? 

Gerv. Easy, wife, let them ask one another how 
they do. 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 11 

Dame. Yes ; but I don't like 

Gerv. I say you do like to see our Richard 
arrive ; ar'nt you glad to see him so strong, and 
healthy, and gay. 

Dame. Do you hear your father, Richard ? He 
asks me, if I am glad to see you — why I'm mad 
with joy. 

Rich. Dear mother, I know it. (embraces her.) 

Gerv. That 7 s it — that's as it should be. 

Mich, (to Annette.) How much you are im- 
proved, my dear Annette ? 

Gerv. (to the Villagers.) Come, my friends, 
here's a barrel of old wine to drink Richard's 
health in. 

Vill. Thank ye, thank ye, farmer Gervas. 

Ann. (to Richard). You sometimes thought of 
poor Annette ? 

Rich. Oh ! always — never a moment from my 
thoughts. 

Dame, (bustling at the table.) Put that dish 
here — that's Richard's favourite dish — set it be- 
fore him. 

Gerv. Blaisot, tap this fellow, (pointing to the 
barrel.) bleed him without mercy. 

Rlais. We'll not leave a drop in his body. 

Gerv. (to Richard.) There he is! why the sight 
of him makes me ten years younger. What do 
you say of our Annette? Is'nt she 

Rich. Handsomer than ever! 

Gerv. Not a word of that now — mum. — Well, 
Richard, you quit us no more. 

Rich. No, father ; having served my country 
with honour, I have now a right to share my 
father's labours, and make his life comfortable 
and happy. 

Gerv. Dear boy ! 

c2 



12 the magpie; or, the 

Dame, Now for it, every thing's ready, let us 
sit down. 

Gerv. Richard, there's your place,, near your 
mother — Annette, sits here — if the Bailli comes 
he shall sit there, and you, master Thomas, and 
farmer Lucas, sit down. Blaisot take care. There 
dance away: here's Richard's health! (all touch 
glasses.) health and joy to our friends and neigh- 
bours. [A dance during supper.] 

Gerv. (rising.) Bravo, bravo ; now, my friends, 
all go into the inclosures, under the chesniit-trees, 
and we will follow and join in the dance. Blaisot, 
carry bottles and glasses, and when they want 
filling, there's the fountain, (points to the barrel.) 

JBlais. Yes, master Gervas, here we go, follow 
me, boys. [Music. Exeunt at the gate.] 

Mich. And now, mother, before its dark, 1 
must go and see my dear uncle ! 

Gerv. Do so, Richard, the sight of you will 
cure the gout, I warrant me. What do you say, 
wife, let's go along with him, and see my poor 
brother? 

Dame. To be sure — its quite right ; Annette, 
child, do you stay here; you know what you 
have to do ? 

Ann. Yes, ma'am. 

Rich. Dear Annette, we shall not be long. 

Ann. Adieu, dear Richard. 

Gerv. Here take my arm wife. 

Dame. Not I indeed! here's the arm that I 
never shall quit again. 

[Exeunt over platform.'] 

Enter Evrard, disguised in an old great coat and 
flapped hat. 

Ann. I must make haste, and put up all the 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 13 

things, or Dame Gervas will be so angry. Let 
me first count the plate, (puts them one after 
another at the upper end of the table.) How I 
love thee, dear Richard! 

Evr. (hesitating and looking about.) This must 
be the farm house. 

Ann. Its all right, the number is exact. 

JEvr. My daughter ! If I could but speak to 
her alone. 

Ann. He's such a charming young man! — how 
he vowed to me at the very table, that he would 
make me the happiest of wives. 

JEvr. My poor child ! and I am come to destroy 
all her prospects! cruel destiny ! 

Ann. What is this! — the poor man looks dis- 
tressed. What is the matter, good friend? 

Evr. (discovering himself .) My child! 

Ann. My father! (she throws down the last 
spoon, and runs to embrace him.) My dearest 
father ! 

Evr. Hush ! speak softly. 

Ann. Good heavens! — why? 

Evr. Last night our regiment came to Paris ; 
I asked permission to come and embrace my 
child — but for one day ; — the commanding officer 
refused me — I urged — I entreated — he answered 
me harshly and cruelly — I upbraided him with 
want of feeling. It was imprudent, 1 confess; 
he lifted his cane to strike me, when, forgetting 
the subordination due from a soldier to his officer, 
I drew my sabre, and would have put him to instant 
death, if my comrades had not prevented me. 

Ann. Oh, horror ! 

Evr. Orders were immediately given to arrest 
me; but, beloved by my fellow soldiers, they as- 
sisted my escape; with the little money you sent 



14 the magpie; or, the 

me, I bought this disguise, and at day break my 
brave friend, St. Clair, conducted me to the wood 
hard by. 

Anil. My dearest father, let us still hope — 

Evr. No, my child, it is in vain ; the court mar- 
tial must assemble this morning, and sentence of 
death will infallibly be pronounced. 

Ann. Then remain with us : with your child 
there is yet safety. Mr. Gervas — his wife — his 
son — I am sure will do every thing. 

Evr. How, Annette! plunge your benefactors 
in danger. No, this village is too near Paris ; 
since I have been lucky enough to find you alone, 
promise me — swear to me, by the duty and affec- 
tion you owe your father, that you will never 
discover to human being, my imprudence or my 
fate. 

Ann. Not to Mr. Gervas ? 

Evr. Not even to him ; if you wish to save 
your father from despair, promise me never to 
reveal his unfortuate story. 

Ann. I solemnly promise. 

Evr. It is for your sake, my beloved child, 
that I demanded this promise ; you have (unknow- 
ingly) confided to me your hopes ; it is of conse- 
quence to you, that neither Richard or his pa- 
rents should be even acquainted with my dis- 
grace. I am known in the regiment only by my 
assumed name of Evrard, and none suspect me 
to be Farmer Granville — the death of the poor 
soldier, Evrard, will excite no attention ; and if 
they hear it in this house, they will little think 
it is their old friend. 

Ann. Oh! my father, if nothing but flight and 
eternal exile will do, happiness is banished 
from Annette's thoughts ; we'll fly together, al- 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 15 

ways with you ; I shall but breath for your safety 
— I will partake all your danger ; live or die in 
the arms of my father. 

Evr. Best of children! Heaven forbid I should 
accept such a sacrifice — alone, and marching by 
night in the woods and unfrequented paths, there 
may be still a hope, that passing the frontiers 
safely 

Ann. (She sees the Bailli coming at a distance.) 
Good Heaven— somebody — its the Bailli. 

Evr. Cruel interruption ! I had something 
more to tell you. 

Ann. 'Tis impossible now, here is the vile 
Bailli, sit down at the corner of the table ; and 
cover your uniform. (He sits down at the upper 
end). 

Enter Bailli at the Gate. 

Bail. There she is, and alone ! I met Dame 
Gervas and the family in the square, (aside.) I'm 
come apropos to find the beautiful Annette at 
last by herself. 

Ann. Come, my poor man, take this glass of 
wine ; it will comfort you, and give you strength 
to continue your journey. 

Bail. Good day — good day, beautiful Annette. 

Ann. Your servant, Mr. Bailli. 

Bail. Who is that man ? 

Ann. A poor traveller, quite worn out with 
hunger and fatigue ; I made the poor man sit down 
and refresh himself a little. 

Bail. Very right, very right — always charita- 
ble, but when shall / have any kindness in re- 
turn for 

Ann. Drink a little more, don't you find your- 
self better? Pretend to fall asleep, (aside to 



16 -the magpie; OR, TH£ 

him.) Mr. and Mrs. Gervas are gone out Mr, 
Bailii. 

Bail. No matter — I'm not in a hurry; lean 
wait for them. 

(Ecrard appears to sleep, but looks up at times.) 

Ann. Excuse me, Mr. Bailii — be so good as to 
leave me. 

Bail. No, little chicken, I won't be so good as 
to lose this opportunity — but will that man stay 
for ever ? you ought to — 

Ann. Let the poor man sleep a little, I'm sure 
he wants it. 

Bail. If he's asleep I don't care, (aside.) Come 
here Annette — you know how 1 long to talk to 
you. ( Takes her hand ivhich she withdraws.) 
Nay, don't be angry. ( Evrard looks up.) 

Ann. You know Mr. Bailii that I don't like 
any such 

Bail. Aye, aye; no jokes with the Bailii : you 
dont like this, and you don't like that, but you 
do like to see such a man as me captivated — well, 
I; confess it, you have won my heart, you little 
witch ! 

Evr. Insolent dotard ! (aside.) 

Ann. How shall I get rid of him? (aside.) 

Bail. Come, my little angel, I see you don't 
mean to be always cruel — the devil— here's my 
servant. 

Enter Georget at the Gate. 

Geor. Mr. Bailii, here's a pacquet to be deli- 
vered immediately. 

Bail. Who brought it? 

Geor. A soldier. 

Bail. L r?t me see — you may go, Georget. 

(Exit Georget at the Gate.) 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 17 

Ann. A soldier ! (aside.) 

Bail. Let me see — where's my spectacles— 
where can I have left them ? in the house I sup- 
pose ; let us try to make it out! (holding the let* 
terat a distance from him.) Hum: " Mr. Bailli." 
" Description" — soldier, " Evrard;" hum. 

Ann. Good heaven! (aside.) 

Evr. All's lost! (aside.) 

Bail. Its in vain, I cannot read any more of it 
without my spectacles — no matter — its only the 
old story — some deserter — why Annette may as 
well read it for me- -do, my dear girl, just read 
this a little. 

Ann. Why not go home, Mr. Bailli, and read 
it at your leisure. 

Bail. Its not worth while, I tell you, to go so 
far; wont you oblige me ? 

Ann. (trembling.) " Mr. Bailli, enclosed is 
" the description of a soldier of the Royal Regi- 
" ment of Champaign, condemned to death (fal- 
" tering) by a court martial." 

Evr. Ah ! I was sure of it! 

Ann. By name — 

Bail. A trifle — what signifies being so affected 
about such nonsense? read on, read on. 

Ann. Every thing is lost if I go on — forty-five 
years old, five feet ten inches high, (aside.) 

Bail.. Well, can't you make it out ? 

Ann. The writing is so small and cramp. 

Bail. Small ! why it looked to me the finest 
large round hand — if I had but my spectacles — 

Ann. Yes, yes ; now I look again, it's quite 
plain ; Heaven inspire me. (aside.) By name 
" Louis Evrard." Aged twenty-three years. 

Bail. Poor young man ! 



18 the magpie; or, the 

Ann. Six feet, three inches — 

Bail. The Devil ! he's a giant ! 

Ann. Large, blue eyes, flaxen hair — 

Bail. Why he's an Adonis too ! " Large, blue 
eyes ! flaxen hair !" 

Ann. (looking at her fathers blade gaiters.) 
And long, white gaiters. The Bailli of Palaiseau 
is desired to take immediate measures for arrest- 
ing the above soldier, if he should pass through 
any of the places within his jurisdiction, and dis- 
tribute copies of the enclosed at the 

Bail. Aye, aye, at the different outposts. — 
Very well ; it shall be done. Give me the pa- 
pers. — Eh ! let me see — we may as well examine 
this man a little. {Goes up to Evrard, who pre- 
tends to be asleep, and taps him on the shoulder?) 
Friend ! stand up — take off your hat. 

Ann. I'm ready to expire, (aside.) 

Bail. Twenty-three years old — six feet three 
— blue eyes — flaxen hair. Ha ! ha ! ha ! a good 
hit I made of here. There, go your way, good man. 

Ann. Thank Heaven! (aside.) Speed you 
well, my poor man : good bye. — Hide yourself 
there, till he is gone, (aside.) [Exit Evrard. 

Bail. Upon my word, Mr. Louis Evrard, with 
your blue eyes and flaxen hair, I would have you 
keep out of my clutches. 

Ann. Now, Mr. Bailli, I must beg of you to 
leave me to finish my work. 

Bail. Certainly, certainly, my little angel ! 
but upon one condition — Promise to think upon 
what I told you, and give a kiss as a pledge. 

(Evrard appears.) The villain ! (aside.) 

Bail. Somebody spoke. 

Ann. He is discovered ! 
{But observing the 31agpie, tvho has conic 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 19 

out of his cage, and tvas then on a branch 
of the tree over the table, she says — ] 
Look, Mr. Bailli ! 

Bail. Ah ! I see — Dame Gervas's cursed Mag- 
pie! But, Annette, remember the condition. — 

{Goes to kiss her.) 

Ann. Mr. Bailli ! (with great dignity >.) — Begone, 
or you shall repent. 

Bail. Threatning too ! I should like to know 
who is to prevent me from 

Ann. Some one who will punish this insolence. 

Bail. What do I hear? A servant dare to 
treat me so ! Me ! Chrisostome Athanasius de 
Rocher, Bailli de Palaiseau ! I know where all 
this pride and impertinence proceeds : it is upon 
Richard, your master's son, that you have your 
views ; but you shall know what it is to affront 
a Bailli ; you shall repent this ! — A saucy, im- 
pertinent servant maid, indeed! I'm in office, 
hussy ! and may chance to teach you, that, 
when little folks forget their respect to great 
ones, great ones never forget to remember it. 

[Music. Exit, muttering, at gate. 

Enter Evrard. 

Evr. And to be obliged to bear such an out- 
rage ! 

Ann. Be calm, my dear father : my fears were 
but for you ; and, now we are alone, you had 
something more to tell me. 

Evr. Yes, my child; — my money is all ex- 
hausted. 

Ann. And, alas! I have none. 

Evr. I know it; you sent mejall you possessed. 
But one thing remains : here is my last resource 

d 2 



20 the magpie; or, the 

— a silver spoon of your poor mother's, which I 
have kept to this moment. 

Ann. My mother's ! ( She takes and kisses it.) 
Ev. I hoped to have kept it all my life — but 
hard necessity ! You may perhaps be able to 
dispose of it in the village this evening ; but do it 
discreetly. I observed an old tree near the 
road, at the entrance of this little wood ; it has a 

hollow in it 

Ann. I know it. 

Ev. Whatever little money the spoon will 
bring you can deposit in that hollow, in the 
course of to-night ; and, at day-break, I shall be 
there to receive it. 

Ann. At day-break ! I fear I shall not have 
time — stop a moment — yes, perhaps, in an hour 

or two. The Jew, who was here a while ago 

Yes, my dear father, the money shall be there 
this very night. 

Ev. Adieu, then, my child ; this may be the 
last embrace ! 
Ann. My father ! 

[She conducts him through the rustic gate, 
following him with her eyes, and then sinks 
on a chair — when the curtain drops. Pre- 
vious to this, the Magpie drops from the 
branch upon the table, and, taking a spoon 
in his beak, has floivn across the stage be- 
hind the scenes. This takes place when, 
Annette is looking after her father, and 
before she sinks on the chair.'] 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 21 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 

A room in the farm-house ; door in front ; a win- 
dow at each side ; a large table, on which are 
heaps of plates, glasses, fyc. and, at one end of 
it, the basket of knives and forks and spoons. 
In a corner of the room is seen the Magpie in 
a cage, hung up against the wall. 

Annette, — (going to the door in front, that 
looks into the street.) 

Ann. The Jew, I fear, is really gone. To offer 
me so little ! — it would be of no use to my poor 
father ; and time passes, (looking out with anxiety) 
— If he does not come back what shall I do ? and 
what will become of him, if he does not find the 
money in the hollow tree ? he must wait till night 
— and then, perhaps, it may be too late ! If I 
could but see the Jew again — he might give me 

a little more (Isaac speaks behind.) 

I hear him — how lucky ! 

Isa. Knives ! scissars ! — Fell, Miss, I give tur- 
teen shillings — can't gif more, upon my con- 
silience. 

Ann. Thirteen shillings ! I must have stolen 
it to take so little. 

Isa. That's not my business. 

Ann. It's a shame. 

Isa. Veil — I gif fifteen shillings — that is the 
lasht. 



22 the magpie; or, the 

Ann. Go your ways. 

Isa. I'm a going, matimoiselle. 

Ann. I must take it, here. 

Isa. Good — (I was going to gif seventeen. 
(aside.) 

Ann. Make haste — somebody may come. 

Isa. I undershand (counting the money) four- 
teen, fifteen. 

Ann. Very well, it's all right — go away. 

(Exit Isaac.) 

[Blaisot at the door at the other side!] 

Blais. What have you been selling to that ugly 
Jew? 

Ann. (putting her money in her pocket.) I 
wanted a little money, Blaisot, so I have been 
selling him something. 

Blais. Say for nothing at all — these Jews are 
such Jews ! mercy on us. 

Ann. Yes, but I was in such distress for a 
little money. 

Blais. And wasn't Blaisot's leather purse at 
your service, Miss Annette ? aye, and ta the last 
farthing, small as it is ? 

Ann. Thank you, good Blaisot ; but leave me 
now. I have got so much to do this morning. 

Blais. And so have I too — ecod Dame Ger- 
vas keeps us to it finely. (Exit running off.) 

Ann. Now to the hollow tree : my poor father 
must be so impatient ; ah ! (stopped by Richard, 
who enters.) 

Rich. Dear Annette — good morning. 

Ann. So early, Mr. Richard ! 

Rich. I could not sleep, the pleasure of being 
again with my family, the joy of finding my An- 
nette still faithful, and the hope of soon calling 



MAID OF PALAISEAU; 23 

her mine agitated me so much, that I have not 
closed my eyes — and you, dear girl ? 

Ann. Ah, Richard ! I could not sleep either. 

Rich. What is the matter? you look alarmed ! 

Ann. Me ! not at all Richard — my father 
waiting all this time ! (aside.) 

Kick. You are unhappy — tell me. 

Ann. No, indeed — nothing at all — I must be 
gone for a moment — adieu, dear Richard ! 

Rich. One instant; I must enquire; my mother 
perhaps has been saying something. 

Ann. Your mother! I'll let him think so, [aside."] 
Ah Richard ! I fear Dame Gervas will never con- 
sent to your marrying the daughter of a poor 
soldier. 

Rich. And what am I, then ? it is my pride 
and boast to be a soldier — and what state more 
honourable than his, who is ever ready to face 
all perils in the service of his country ? 

Enter Gervas. 

Gerv. Ah, here they are together ! very well, 
very well, my dear children ! Eh ! what's a 
clock ? 

Rich. About six, father. 

Gerv. Six — why I overslept myself. 

Ann. It will be too late ! (aside.) 

Gerv. It's your fault, Richard ; one sleeps so 
sound when the heart is at ease ! 

Rich. And yet mine, father, never was so 
much at ease, and I have not slept a wink. 

Gerv. Aye : but Richard, this love, they say, 
is a terrible disturber. 

Ann. If I could but get away ! (retiring to 
the door.) 



24 THE magpie; OR,' the 

Gerv. Am I right, Annette? what are you 
doing there a mile off? come here I say — none of 
your little demure looks — they don't become you 
my dear child, listen to me. — (taking a hand of 
each of them under his arm.) We must begin a 
battery against my wife, this very day. 

Rich. Yes, father, this very day. 

Ann. Alas ! (aside.) 

Gerv, Don't be afraid little coward ! I'll tell 
you how it will be — she'll scold, fume, fret. — 
Lord : how she will give it to us all ! well, well — 
let her go to the end of her letter, and then I — 
no, then you Richard, you'll begin. 

Rich. And why not you, father ? - 

Gerv. No, no. I should spoil all, I tell you 
—my Dame is one of the best women in the 
world ; but the truth is, that if I am of one opi- 
nion, it's quite enough that she should be of 
another ; there's no help for it. 

Rich. Well Father, I shall begin. 

Gerv. That's it — she's so fond of you, that she 
may listen a little, and then we'll tell her, that 
Annette, though not rich, has a hundred good qua- 
lities, more necessary in a wife eh ! where the 

devil is she running — (Annette retiring at last, 
make's her escape.) Annette! Annette! ah! 
there's my wife got hold of her. 

Enter Dame ivith Annette. 

Dame. Where are you going in such a hurry, 
Miss ? one would think there was nothing to do 
in the house — good morning, Richard, how do 
you do, child, after your fatigue ? 

Rich. Very well, mother/and you I hope — 
Dame. Mercy! what a room! nothing set to 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 25 

rights-r-plates, glasses, standing about — did any 
body ever see such disorder? and you (to 
father and son,) there you stand looking at 
each other, and won't leave me to settle my 
household affairs. 

Gerv. Well wife, we're going. Richard, better 
chuse another time — there's a storm brewing; 
-come along boy. 

Rich. But shall we leave, Annette? 

Gerv. Aye, aye; she's us'd to it — let us go. 

(Exeunt Gervas and Richard.) 
Dame. What have they been all three talking 
about ? some secret from me, I dare say — An- 
nette do you know any thing? 
Ann. I, ma'am ! 

Dame. Hem ! hem ! there's something or other, 
but I'll get to the bottom of it — if people think I 
am to be deceived, they don't know Dame Ger- 
vas — I have a tongue that can speak, and a head 
that wont follow other people's opinion, believe 
me — come child, help to put things to rights ; take 
away these plates and glasses ; where's the 
basket with the silver forks and spoons ? 
Ann. Here it is, ma'am. 

Dame. Very well — I shall count them over. 
(she reckons and talks alternately, while Annette is 
occupied carrying things from the table into an- 
other room behind the scenes.) Well, sure enough 
we had a very pleasant fete of it ! for our dear 
Richard ! and poor farmer Lucas ! he had a 
dose of wine, and how his wife did talk ! oh 
Lord — eleven forks — how people can go on all 
day chattering so, is quite wonderful ! one, two, 
three ; and her daughters ! seven, eight. I hope 
they danced enough at last : such jumpers I 
never saw ! ten, eleven ! 1 must be mistaken — 

E 



26 the magpie; or, the 

(counts them again) ten — eleven — no more — there 
it is ! so here's a spoon wanting now ! 

Ann. How! a spoon? (goes to count them.) 

Dame. Yes, count them yourself; there were 
eleven forks — here they are ; and twelve spoons. 

Ann. Ten, eleven. I can see no more ; and 
yet I'm sure I paid the greatest attention. 

Dame. So it seems, miss ! but let's see — look 
about under the table — it is really inconceivable. 
(Calling.) Farmer Gervas, what are you doing 
out there ? Come to me directly, Blaisot. 

Enter Blaisot. 

Go along and look under the tree where we 
supped, and see if you can find a spoon. 

[Exit Blaisot.] 

Enter Gervas. 

Gerv. What's the matter, wife ? what are you 
in such a fuss about ? what spoon ? 

Dame. Yes, indeed, this time its a spoon lost. 
Well, Annette, can't you find it ? 

Ann. No, ma'am; I have looked every where — 
how disagreeable it is ! 

Dame. Yes, miss, very disagreeable, and very 
extraordinary too, give me leave to say, to lose 
two such valuable things in the same way. 

Gerv. Pah ! it will be found bye and bye. 

Dame. It's enough to set one mad to see how 
easily you take things, Mr. Gervas ; but it shall 
not pass as it did before — I shall insist upon ex- 



amining- 



Gerv. There, she is at her tantrums again ! as 
if every thing that's missing for a moment must 
be stolen. 

Dame. Mighty well, mighty well ! 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 27 

Enter Blaisot. 

Blais. I've searched and searched all under 
and over — no more spoon than on the back of 
my hand — ecod, I have it. — 

Gerv. What ; the spoon. 

Blais. No ; but for my part, I think the spoon 
must be gone after the fork. 

Gerv. Fool ! 

Dame. Not such a fool either ; but did you 
look every — 

Blais. Not only look'd myself, but I met 
George t, the Bailli's man, and he help'd me ; 
but not the spoon we could find. 

Gerv. And a wise thing it was of you to tell 
that prating fellow any thing about it. 

Dame. It's lucky he did, Mr. Gervas — it's no 
harm if the Bailli himself knew it — the same ac- 
cident cou'dn't happen twice without some — in 
short, Mr. Gervas, the spoon must be stolen — 
and who took it? 

Mag. Annette — Annette! 

Ann. Oh ! Heaven ! 

Gerv. (laughing.) Ha, ha! listen to that non- 
sensical bird. 

Dame. It's rather singular, you must allow. 

Gerv. (to Annette.) What are you crying for, 
child ? Do you think I mind what that bird says ; 
and my wife, I'm sure, has too much sense, too 
much justice, to imagine for a moment — is it not 
so wife ? 

Dame. Surely — I don't believe— I'm far from 
thinking — I don't accuse any body ; but a silver 
spoon is a silver spoon, and the spoon is gone, 
Mr. Gervas, and I must suspect somebody. 

Blais. Ecod then, mayhap you suspect Blaisot; 
e2 



28* the magpie; or, the 

but I scorn your words, and dang it if 1 was to 
go for to think you meant as I had any hand in 
it — (muttering in a great passion.) 

Dame. Nobody spoke to you, blockhead ! 

Blais. Aye, blockhead! and a blockhead may 
be a very honest man, I'd have you to know. 

Ann. (in great distress.) My good Blaisot, don't 
you see, it is not to you that all this is directed, 
but to me. I am very unfortunate. 

Gerv. Hush ! here's the Bailli. 

Dame. So much the better. 

Enter Bailli. 

Bail. What's the matter here, neighbours? 
Georget has been telling me of a robbery ! Eh I 
something about a silver spoon ; I ordered my 
clerk to follow me — we must examine — 

Gerv. Not at all, Mr. Bailli — there are na 
thieves in my house — nothing has been stolen. 

Bail. However, I am informed — 

Dame. My husband doesn't know what he 
says. I'll tell you, Mr. Bailli — here's a silver 
spoon missing, we must know what has become 
of it, and I am sure you will do your duty. 

Bail. Most judiciously expressed, Dame Ger- 
vas. What, sir ! was there not a silver fork 
missing a fortnight ago? and is it found yet? 
And now a spoon ! The case is evident — House 
breaking — household robbery ! I must examine 
witnesses — take depositions. 

Gerv. Pshaw ! Mr. Bailli, it's a trifle. 

Bail. Trifle, indeed ! Hanging matter, I say ! 
Where is my clerk ? (Looking about sees An- 
nette.) So, Miss Annette, you can read papers 
prettily I see. 

Gerv. What? (to Amiette) 

Bail. Only a cunning trick of this young lady, 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 29 

while I was looking for my spectacles, to save a 
notorious culprit. — I shall remember it. 

Enter Gripeall. 

Bail. Have you sent for the gens d'armes? 

Grip. They are in waiting. 

Bail. And my servant, George t — 

Grip. Is with them. 

Bail. Good ! Now, Farmer Gervas, and you, 
Dame Gervas, sit down, if you please, both of 
you. A table here. — (Gripeall and Bailli sit 
doivn to a table opposite; Gripeall takes out of his 
pocket, papers, pens, and ink.) Write the pre- 
amble — In the year of our Lord, 1760, came be- 
fore us We shall begin by examining all pre- 
sent. 

Blais. Aye, do. I don't value you three skips 
of a grasshopper. 

Ann. There's nobody here afraid, Mr. Bailli. 

Bail. First deposition. — Dame Gervas de- 
poseth, that about a fortnight ago, a large silver 
fork was stolen from her house — ditto this day, 
a large silver spoon, same value, and stolen by 
the same person. 

Dame. I don't say that, Mr. Bailli — I don't 
know who took them. 

Bail. Silence ! we must stick to the forms of 
the law. Now, Dame Gervas, I ask you who is 
the person in your house who has the care of 
your plate ? 

Dame. Annette. 

Bail. Ah, ah! pretty innocent! — Now in my 
turn, {aside.) Strong presumption against the 
said Annette. 

Ann. Against me ! — just Heaven ! 

Bail. Her familv name ? 



30 the magpie; ok, the 

Dame. Granville. 

Gerv. Stop a little. I must tell you, Mr. Bailli, 
Annette was never responsible. 

Sail. Write down Annette Granville. 

Gerv. But speak, wife. 

Dame. Mr. Bailli. I don't say Annette is by 
any means — 

Bail. No — you don't say, I know, but you 
confide in Annette, and particularly all your sil- 
ver-plate; and, therefore, upon her naturally falls 
the first suspicion. 

Slais. And so, Mr. Bailli, if I have the care of 
the pigs, and one on'em throws himself into a pit, 
I'm to be suspected of eating 'em. — Dang such law ! 

Sail. Silence ! impertinent ! Dame Gervas 
further deposeth. 

Ann. And you, madam, don't contradict this 
unjust — this vile insinuation! wretched Annette. 
(Pulls out her handkerchief to zvipe her eyes, the 
money she got from the Jew, being wrapped up in 
it, falls on the stage.) 

Dame. What is all this ? 

Ann. (Picking up the money in a hurry.) It be- 
longs to me, ma'am ! 

Dame. To you! and we know it was but the 
other day you sent ev'ry farthing you had to 
your father. 

Gerv. True, Annette. — How comes it then ? 

Ann. And you, too, Mr. Gervas. — Oh ! by 
ev'ry thing that is sacred, I swear this money is 
mine. 

Gerv. I believe you, my child ; but I only 
wish to know — 

Sail. Write down, " Aggravating circum- 
stances." 

Slais. Stop a minute, old Quill, (to Gripeall^) 
It is Annette's money. — I know all about it. 



MAID OF PALAISEAT. 3t 

Gerv. Speak then, Blaisot. 

Blais. Don't you know Isaac, the Jew? there, 
below, at the White Horse, in the village ? now, 
to my knowledge, he gave Miss Annette money 
this morning, for some bits of old things she 
sold 'urn. 

Bail. A Jew! here we have it. 

Dame. Now, Mr. Gervas, is it pretty clear ? 

Gerv. Annette, does Blaisot speak the truth? 

Ann. He does. 

Dame. Let her tell us what she sold. — It could 
not be her cross, for there it is. 

Ann. My cross ! (looking at it) would to 
Heaven it was ! 

Bail. Writedown, said, " Stolen article was 
sold to a Jew."' Let me see that money. — -Give it 
to me, I say. (putting it into his pocket.) 

Ann. What, my last resource ! (falling on her 
knees) I conjure you, Mr. Bailli, leave me that 
money; it is a sacred trust. What I sold, be- 
longed to me. — Pity my despair. — I am as inno- 
cent as yourself of this. 

Bail. Paid into court. — Bad affair! the Jew 
is a damning proof; and this very day, the judge 
comes in his rounds to Palaiseau. Now write 
down, Blaisot deposeth, that he saw fifteen shil- 
lings given by the said Jew to the said Annette 
Granville, for a silver-spoon. 

Blais. I tell you its a lie! and I'll knock your 
paper about your head, if you come for to write — 

Bail. Contempt of court! commit him. — Make 
out a mittimus. 

Blais. Here I thought to save the poor girl, 
and I made it all worse. — Dear me ! dear me ! 

Gerv. Mr. Bailli. — I protest against this way 
of going on. — We must have the proper witnesses. 



32 the magpie; or, the 

Bail. True ! we must hear the Jew. 

Blais. And, by the mass, if he's above ground* 
111 bring 'urn here: that will repair all. (runs off.) 

Gerv. Annette; perhaps the Jew will come? 
(observing her.) 

Ann. Oh! I hope so, and quickly. 

Rich, (without) Annette ! 

Enter Richard. 

Ann. Richard ! 

Rich. Tell me, father, Blaisothas been saying— 
who dares to accuse Annette of any crime? 

Ann. Oh ! Richard, you will not believe — 

Rich. Never, my beloved girl ! you, whose 
noble heart and rectitude of conduct, have at- 
tached me more than your beauty. 

Dame, What do you say, my son ? 

Rich. Yes, mother; for to her only will Rich- 
ard be united for ever. 

Dame. You don't know what you say — you 
are ignorant of what has passed. — This girl — 

Rich. I know this, that my dearest Annette is 
innocent, and that I answer for it with my life. 
Mr. Bailli you may retire ; your presence is no 
longer necessary. 

Bail. Hey-day — chaos is come again. 

Rich. Carry off your cursed scrawls, and 
don't let my ears be offended with your calum- 
nies. 

Bail. Young man, young man, justice is not to 
be interrupted by your audacious sallies — here 
are proofs of household robbery, and- 

Rich. Falsehood ; it is not so ; my father — 

Ger. I hope it will turn out so. — 

Bail. Read the depositions, read the discovery 



MAID OF PALAISEAtJ. S3 

t>f the money found upon the defendant, which 
tnoney was given to her this morning by a Jew, 
for the article in question : read, read. 

Rich. Very well, I know it — the whole pro- 
ceeding is infamous — and these are your proofs ! 
because Annette sold something that belonged to 
her, and probably to assist the unfortunate ; for I 
know her goodness : and because, by mere chance 
at the same time, some little piece of plate is 
missing in the house, can you dare to conclude 
from that, that Annette is guilty ? Tremble, Mr. 
Justice, to increase the number of those fatal 
judgments by which too often the innocent and 
unprotected fall victims to error and precipi- 
tation. 

Bail. And give me leave to tell you, Mr. 
Richard, that I am not to learn my duty from a 
jackanapes, who only because he is in love with 
the defendant — 

Rich. Peace, old man ! would to Heaven that 
your motives for persecuting were as pure as 
mine for defending the innocent. 

Dame. Hold your tongue, Richard ; and Mr. 
Bailli, you need not tell us about my son's love, 
for I dislike it,as much as you do ; but what he 
says is true enough, we must not condemn peo- 
ple in a hurry, and I had rather he was married 
to Annette, than we should suspect her wrong- 

j 
Gerv. Well said, wife. 

Enter Blaisot, dragging in the Jew. 

Blais. Here he is — I got hold on 'ura. (aside to 
Annette.) Now Annette it will be all right. 

F 



34 the magpie; OR, TH£ 

Isa. The tevil ! Blaisot not tell me the Paily 
here, (aside. ) 

Rich. Come forward, Mr. Jew, and tell us — 

Bail. Hold — I must examine the witness, your 
name, and profession ? answer, I say. 

Isa. I'm call Sholoman Isaac — doesh a little 
bishness in the way of trade, and all upon my 
conshence. 

Bail. Do you know this young girl? 

Isa. Yesh, Mr. Paily. 

JBail. What was it she sold you this morning? 

Isa. Vat vash it, matemoiselle ? (to Annette 
aside.) It vash ; it vash one silver shpoon. 

Gerv. ^ 

Dame. > A silver spoon ! 

Blais. j 

Mich. What do you say, villain? 

Ann. The truth, Richard — shew the spoon I 
sold you. 

Isa, Vit pleasure, matamoiselle if I could, but I 
shold it directly to a friend, little profit; and I 
don't know where he's gone. 

Ann. Then I am lost ! 

JBail. Write down the witnesses deposition. 

Evr. Annette, where did you get this spoon ? 

Ann. Good Mr. Gervas, do not ask me; I 
oannot, must not tell you. 

Blais. Here's another pretty job I made of it, 
to bring this cursed Jew here ! 

Bail. Silence in the court ! you all see now 
that the evidence is conclusive. 

Rich. I am thunderstruck ! 

Ann. Bitter humiliation, and still to tremble 
for my poor father's life ! merciful Heaven! — 

Dame. I begin to pity her from my heart. 



MAID OF PALAISEAU.. 35 

Bail. {Coming forward.) Come, young lady, it 
can't be help'd, but you must to prison. 

All. To prison ! 

Gerv. But, Mr. Bailli, can't we settle this mat- 
ter? 

Bail. Impossible, Mr. Gervas ,• it is too late. 

[Isaac stealing off. 

Rich. Stop that villain, a thought has struck 
me — mother fetch one of our spoons. 

Dame. Directly, my son ! 

Enter Gens D'Armes. 

Rich. Describe the spoon you bought; what 
sort of one was it ? plain, or otherwise ? the form, 
weight, arms, or cypher ? 

Isa. Very heavy — cosh'd me great deal of mo- 
ney ; it vash shyfer, I think. 

Rich. Was it a take care. 

Isa. Yes a chee — it was a chee. 

Annet. Fatal circumstance ! Gervas and Gran- 
ville, the same letters. 

Rieh. Here, wretch ; compare and pronounce; 
was it like this ? 

Isa. Ver like — the very shame as fat I bought. 

Rich. I am confounded ! 

Ann. Lost for ever ! 

Dame. Mercy on us ! 

Ger. There must be something more in this. 

Bail. To prison, to prison with her ; the Jew 
maybe discharged. [Exit Bailli. 

Ann. (in tears) Richard ! Richard ! 

Rich. Annette, I lov'd — I ador'd you.— My 
happiness is gone for ever. 

Ann. Richard — my friends —I am unfortunate, 
but jnuocent. 

f 2 



36 the magpie; or, the 

Rich. Prove it then. 

Ann. It is impossible. And do you abandon 
me; (to Gervas) you think me guilty. Oh! my 
father! (aside) oh! Richard, I am innocent — J 
am innocent. 

[The Gens d'Armes, in two files, conduct her — • 

Dame covers her face with her handker 1 , 

kerchief- — Gervas holds his son, tvho would 

follow Annette — Blaisot lifts his hands in 

despair.] Curtain falls, 



END OF SECOND ACT, 

i.Vi *!.■ . • "'." : i I'Vi-,:".- 1 i • ' ■ j i ■ ii' i «i 

ACT III, 

SCENE I, 

A Prison, 

Annette discovered. — (After a few bars of de* 
scriptive music, she speaks.) 

Ann. My poor father. — What will become of 
him when he finds I have not been able to place 
the money as I promised ; and should he hear 
that his poor child is the victim of so disgraceful 
an accusation ! dreadful thought. — If he was but 
gone before it happened. — This cross, perhaps — 
but how dispose of it? or how send the money? 
Mr, Gervas — Richard. — No, no; they would ask 



MAID OF PAIrfAISEAU. 37 

me explanations which I cannot give. Blaisot, 
that good young man, who was so friendly in his 
offers. — Yes, I can trust him without betraying 
any thing. — I'll ask the Jailor. Bertrand — Ber- 
trand. 

Enter Bertrand. 

Bert. Here's Blaisot wants to see you. 

Ann. 'Tis fortunate ! 

JBlais. (approaching with a melancholy air.) 
There she is, poor girl. 

Ann. Yes, I can depend upon him. (aside) 
Blaisot, you can do me a great service ; but you 
must ask me no questions. 

Blais. I won't — I won't ask no questions, Miss 
Annette. 

Ann. You saw this morning they took the 
little money I had. 

Blais. Yes, Miss Annette — the Bailli has got 
hold on it ; nobody will ever see that again. 

Ann. Well then my dear Blaisot. 

Blais. I see what you mean — say the word, 
and every thing poor Blaisot has, is at your 
service. 

Ann. I know it, Blaisot — and therefore I wish 
you to lend me just the same sum — here is my 
gold cross, which is worth about — 

Blais. Softly, softly, (putting back her hand) 
where am I to carry the money ? 

Ann. Going out of the little wood, just by the 
Paris road, have you remark'd an old hollow 
tree? 

Blais. To be sure I have. 

Ann. Well : it is in the hollow of this tree 
that you must leave the money this evening. 



38 THE MAGPIE 

Slats. What in the tree ! all alone ! 

Ann. But nobody must see you ; and, above 
all things, I must insist, that you will not re- 
main there to see who comes to take it. 

Blais. Oh ! then it's perhaps 

Ann. You promis'd to ask no questions. 

JBlais. True, I did — leave it to Blaisot. — I 
know it's some good action — I'll do it directly — 

(going.) 

Ann. But, Blaisot, you forgot the cross. 

Blais. Me take your cross ! 

Ann. If you refuse me I cannot accept 

Blais. That's very good ! now I know what 
Tin to do : I defy you, Miss Annette. 

Ann. Hear me, Blaisot — think my good friend, 
that to morrow, perhaps to day, this little orna- 
ment can be no longer of use to Annette. 

JBlais. No, no — Miss Annette — don't talk so — 
its impossible they should be such hard hearted 
d*v-d brutes — keep your cross. 

Ann. Then accept it as a token of Annette's 
regard. 

JBlais. Then I will — and if I part with it, no, 
never {sobbing, and crying, and going.) 

Ann. (taking hold of hi 9 hand.) Farewell. 

Blais. Here's Richard. (Exit Blaisot.) 

Enter Richard. 

Rich. Forgive me, dear Annette— the idea of 
your being accused of such a crime, the appa- 
rent proofs, which you refuse to give any account 
of, all affect and distract me so, that my very 
brain is disorder'd ; I have resolved to return to 
the army, to bid an eternal adieu to my family, 
and find in a glorious death the end of my mis- 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. SQ 

fortunes, but first to take the only chance that 
remains to save me from despair — to ask you for 
the last time — are you guilty ? — 

Ann. No, Richard ! (with dignity.) 

Rich. By what fatality then 

Ann. I can prove nothing — explain nothing — 
nor make any defence — it only remains for An- 
nette to implore the divine assistance, and la- 
ment the errors and injustice of the world. 

Rich. You have a secret then, the discovery 
of which would justify you, and you refuse to 
tell it, to me, the friend of your bosom; to me, 
who would sacrifice an hundred lives to save 
your's. 

Ann. Dear Richard ! add not to my affliction 
— the secret is not my own — besides of what use 
could it be to me? I have but one witness, and 
such is his unfortunate situation, that his evi- 
dence would not be believ'd — his own life would 
be risk'd without saving mine — no — I must be 
silent — prudence — duty — an oath forbids me. 

Rich. I know not what to think! — then sum- 
mon up all your fortitude Annette — the judges 
are arrived— this odious Bailli who persecutes 
you for reasons, I well know, has denounced you 
to the tribunal — and this very day — 

Ann. I may be condemn'd — alas ! a time will 
come, when ray innocence shall be acknowledg'd, 
but poor Annette will not enjoy the triumph. 

Rich. She makes me shudder ! no — she cannot 
be guilty — such truth — such candour — impos- 
sible. 

Ann. And now, Richard, I have a question to 
ask you, aud I depend upon your truth and 
honour. 

Rich. Speak — rely upon them. 



40 the magpie; or, the 

Ann. If I am convicted — what will your 
thoughts be? 

Rich. That you are innocent. 

Ann. Then I shall die consol'd. 

Rich. Yes, my father, and mother — all — 

Ann. Ah, Madame Gervas ! 

Rich. I know you have reason to believe her 
cruel to you — but believe me, dear Annette, she 
has been miserable ever since. 

Ann. I forgive her ! 

Rich. At this very moment, she and my fathef 
are moving heaven and earth, to soften this in-' 
famous BaillL 

Enter Bertrand. 

Ber. Young woman, you must return into the 
prison, the Bailli is coming for the last interro- 
gation. 

Ann. Adieu, Richard. 

Rich. Adieu, dearest Annette ! 

Bert. I hear a noise below; go in, go in; 
quick. 

Richard and Annette embrace; Ber- 
trand locks the door upon her. 

Rich. And, for the last time, I have seen herf 

Bert. Farmer Gervas and his wife I see ; they 
can't see her now. 

Enter Gervas and Dame. 

Rich. (To them.) Have you seen the Bailli? 
Gerv. Not yet ; they told us he was coming. 
And is it there, dear child? 

Dame. There ; and all my fault. (Sobbing), 
Gervas. Did you speak to her, my son? 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 41 

Rich, Oh ! yes- — and had you but seen her, 
mother ! 

Dame. Oh ! Richard, she cannot reproach 
me more than I do myself; and, if it r s to be the 
death of Annette, I know I shall not survive it. 

Gerv. Come, come, my dear wife ; there is still 
hope. We shall speak to the Bailli ; we'll use 
every means — make every sacrifice* 

Dame. Yes, husband; we'll give him every 
thing we possess to save the poor girl ; for I ne- 
ver can think her guilty in my heart. 

Rich. True, mother ; she must be innocent. 

Gerv. Has she told you any thing? 

Rich. No ; there is some mystery, some im- 
perious duty or other, prevents her speaking. 

Gerv. -Here's the Bailli, I think; leave us, 
Richard. 

Enter Bailli. 

Rich. I will, father ; for I dare not trust my- 
self. But if he resists your intreaties, (the Bailli 
advances,) he shall hear me publish the unworthy 
motives that have urged him to oppress the in- 
nocent. 

Bail. Mr. Richard! 

Rich. Your servant, Mr. Bailli; you heard me 
I hope — we were talking of you, sir. [Exit. 

Dame. Pardon him, Mr. Bailli ; it is his de- 
spair makes him talk so. 

Gerv. Yes, Mr. Bailli; and Richard would 
be the first person to acknowledge your kindness, 
if you comply with our wishes. 

Bail. What do you want? let us hear. 

Dame. We want you to throw all the papers 
into the fire — that's all ; and not to have us, 
for a miserable spoon, be the death of a poor girl. 

G 



42 the magpie; or, the 

Bail. It is too late, Dame Gervas ; the affair 
is before the judge. 

Gerv. I don't believe it, Mr. Bailli ; its very 
easy to gain time — let the matter rest a little. 

Bail. Very easy indeed ! 

Gerv. And any sacrifice. 

Dame. Yes, we'll pay any thing — I don't 
mean to you, Mr. Bailli— you are above it ; but 
any expense attending the stopping of the matter 
— we don't mind what it is. Take our silver, 
gold — take every thing ! (crying.) 

Bail. Once again, I say, it is impossible ; and 
give me leave to tell you, that the Bailli of Pa- 
laiseau is not a man to be bribed. 

Gerv. And let me tell the Bailli of Palaiseau, 
that his duty is not to press this affair ; it is by 
no means a clear case, and you would have 
much to answer for, if 

Bail. I know what I have to answer for; I am 
not apt to be mistaken in my judgment, Mr. 
Gervas. 

Gerv. Except when a certain passion hinders 
you from seeing clearly. 

Dame. (To Gervas.) For Heaven's sake, hus- 
band! 

Gerv. Let me alone: the Bailli would have 
found Annette innocent enough, if she had been 
guilty in his way ; but we know very well how 
she scorn'd his proposals — and here's a man who 
talks of duty and justice! 

Bail. I'll make you repent this, fellow! 

Dame. Ah ! Mr. Bailli, (going on her knees.) 

Gerv. (preventing her.) We only kneel to ask 
pardon; — we demand justice! (standing up.) — 
Mr. Bailli, it is not your office to oppress the 
innocent, nor is it my duty to speak half what I 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 43 

feel on this villainous occasion. I reverence the 
laws ; and you never had more cause to be grate- 
ful to them than at this very moment : for, while 
I know they always protect me as an honest man, 
I feel, even to my fingers' ends, that they also 
protect you as an unfeeling — — Poh! — Come 
along, wife. [Exeunt Gervas and Dame. 

Bail. O — so you're an honest man, and I'm 

an unfeeling Pah! — And the law is this— 

and my office is that. And I'll let you know, 
that the law shall teach you to respect my office 
— and that my office shall teach you to respect 
the law — and that Pah ! [Exit in a rage. 



SCENE II. 

Represents the square of the village. In front '; but 
inclining to the right hand side, part of a church 
ivith a steeple and large bell ; just under which 
a sort of small scaffolding ; to which is attached 
a strong rope, which does not hang down at 
present, but is carelessly thrown on the scaffold- 
ing. On the opposite bide the court-house, which 
makes the corner of a street, ivith steps going up 
to it. A sentinel, who walks before the door, 
sometimes disappearing round the corner at the 
other entrance : on the same side, nearer to the 
audience, is a rustic gate to lead down to the 
farm of Mr. Gervas, and a stone bench by the 
side of it. 

Enter St. Clair. 

St. 0, I can find no one to tell me the Bailli's 
house, or Farmer Gervas's. Evrard, I know, 

o 2 



44 the magpie; or, the 

came here to see his daughter — how lucky it 
would be to find him still here, and to embrace 
my brave comrade ! — he can't be far off. 

B la I sot— (coming out of the gate, and counting 
his money.) 

JBlais. That's just the money — and now away 
with us to the tree. 

St. CL Honest lad, mayhap you can tell me 
where the Bailli lives, and Farmer Gervas ? 

]3lais. Yes, master soldier; this gate is the 
short cut to our farm. 

St Cl. And the Bailli ? 

JBlais. You'll find him, fast enough, round the 
corner. 

St. Clair. Thank ye, good friend. [Exit. 

JBlais. He'll not find any body at home, how- 
somever ; ev'ry body gone to poor Annette's trial. 
I can't bear to think on it ! Here's first of all the 
fifteen shillings, and then I have left — poh ! I can 
count afterwards. Poor girl, it makes one's heart 
ache 5 poor Am )tte ! [Exit. 

Enter Evrard. 

Evr. Sure I heard my daughter's name ! and 
(with an air of pity) some accident must have pre- 
vented her sending the money. I cannot support 
it ; and yet, to appear in this village by day light! 
A sentinel ! I am undone if I go that way. 

Enter Georget. 

Evr. Can you oblige me, good friend, to go as 
far as farmer Gervas's ? 

Geor. Why there's the gate of the farm-yard ; 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 45 

you'll find nobody there; they are in trouble, 
poor souls. 

JEvr. In trouble ! 

Geor. Yes ; that nice servant maid of theirs, 
young Annette. 

Evr. What of her ? 

Geor. Who'd have thought such a thing ; shell 
be condemn'd, I'm sartin. 

Evr. Condemn'd! for what? 

Geor. For robbing her mistress, that's all. 

Evr. Impossible ! 

Geor. True enough, tho' ; the whole of the vil- 
lage is gone to the court-house, and I'm going 
myself. 

Evr. Stop, wretch ! her name, this moment. 

Geor. I tell you, Annette — Annette Granville. 

[Exit. 

Evr. Granville ! Merciful Heaven ! 



Enter St. Clair. 

Evr. No ; it cannot be my daughter ! what is 
my life, if such a charge is hanging over her. 

St. Clair. What do I see ? let me embrace my 
dear Evrard. I went to the Bailli's, but he was 
out. 

Evr. Ah, St. Clair, is it you ? 

St. Clair. Yes, Evrard ; here is your pardon. 
The whole regiment petitioned his majesty, and 
your captain himself had the generosity to own 
that he had given you provocation ; he himself 
nobly presented the petition, and the king has 
signed your pardon. 

Evr. You bring me life. My daughter! oh, 
faictl stroke! To the farm, that I may hear the 
worst. 



46 the magpie; or, the 

St. Clair. Evrard, I shall never quit you. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter Georget, followed by Richard, Gervas, 
Dame, \c. 

Geor. Here are all the people coming out; it 
is all over with poor Annette. 

Rich. Yes; 1 will publish to the world this 
infamous injustice. The barbarians condemn'd 
her without hearing me; but I will see her again, 
and receive her last adieu. 

Gerv. You must come with me. Obey your 
father ; I will have it so. 

Rich. Oh ! torture, torture ! 

^Gervas carries him into the farm, and Dame 
follows in distress.) 

[Dead march — Annette, preceded and fol- 
lowed by Gens d'Armes, and surrounded by 
others, oomes down the steps of the court 
house towards the stage ; then turns by the 
church, and stops a moment, with bended 
knee and attitude of prayer. — She then rises y 
and the melancholy procession passes by the 
end of the stage round the court house. The 
music continues till the procession is quite 
out of sight.] 

Enter Blaisot, from the other side. 

Blais. Ecod — I've popp'd the money into the 
tree ; and now let us see the rest of my little for- 
tune. — It wont be long counting. I'll sit down 
here, (on the bench, near the gate.) One, two, 
three.— Fin richer than I thought. — Four, five, 
and the new shilling that poor Annette gave me 
for my Christmas-box. — I'll put that a one side 



MAID OF PALAISEAU. 47 

with the cross. The dear, sweet girl! I think I 
hear her last words, — " Farewell, Blaisot." 

Georget comes forward. 

Geor. Ah! Blaisot, there you are. 

Blais. (getting up in a hurry, leaves part of his 
money on the bench.) Ah! Georget, tell us, — 
were you in the court? 

Geor. Its all over — I heard the sentence. 

Blais. Condemn'd? 

Geor. To death ; - -and gone — 

Blais. To execution.— I tell yon, Georget, its 
an abomination ; and that damn'd Bailli. 

(Returns to the bench to take his money. The 
Magpie has just come down and carried off 
something in her beak.) 

Geor. Look, Blaisot! 

Blais. (Folloiving with his eyes.) Will you 
drop that, yon cursed Magpie? Lookee here, 
Georget, if she 'arnt carried off my new shilling, 
that I wouldn't have given 

Georg. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Poor Blaisot ; I can't 
help laughing. 

JBlais. (Running and looking up after the bird, 
as he approaches the sentinel, tvho looks and 
laughs.) And you're laughing too ; (to the sen- 
tinel); there she is, the d — d thief ! into the bel- 
fry. I watch'd the place ; if I could but climb 
up. Wait a bit, if I but catch you. 

(Goes to the church door, ivhich the work- 
men are supposed to have left open; he 
goes in and gets into the belfry inside.) 

Geor. He thinks the Magpie will wait for him; 
poor Blaisot! ha! ha! ha! 

Blais. (Hallooing out of the Belfry — something 
in his hand.) Holla! Georget! Georget! (scream- 



48 THE magpie; or, THE 

ing with impatience.) Annette is innocent ! look 
here, look here — the spoon ! Oh lud, oh hid — 
and there they're carrying the poor girl ; will no- 
body hear me ! Stop there, hollo ! they can't 
hear me. I know what I'll do. 

(He goes into the Belfry and rings ivith 
great violence, never stopping.) 
Geor. The man's mad ! 

Enter Gervas, Dame, Richard, arid Vil- 
lagers. 
Gerv. 



^ ' \ What is the matter ? 
Dame. $ 



Blais. (stopping.) Come here all of you, come 
here, Annette's innocent ! (rings again.) 

Gerv. But Blaisot, Blaisot — tell us. 

Blais. (stopping the Bell.) Dame, Gervas, 
Richard ! Oh ! (out of breath.) run as fast as 
you can, here's the spoon and fork, and ever so 
many things, and my new shilling. It was the 
Magpie that stole 'em. 

Blais. Here, Dame Gervas, hold your apron. 
(he throws them down.) 

{Exeunt Gervas and Richard.] 
Blaisot continues ringing. 

Blais. (on the scaffolding, looking out) here 
she is, and Richard carrying her in his arms. 

Re-enter Gervas with Richard, carrying 
Annette — her father enters, and clasps her 
in his arms — all the villagers shout — Dame 
Gervas falls on her knees to Annette, who 
tenderly raises her — the characters form a - 
general tableau, and the curtain drops. 

the end. 



Printed by J. F. DOVE, St. John's Square. 






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